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<title>And there's nothing, that I can do except bury my love for you by Amlovelies</title>
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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/29016909">And there's nothing, that I can do except bury my love for you</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Amlovelies/pseuds/Amlovelies'>Amlovelies</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Chargestep Prompt Pieces [3]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Fallen Hero Series - Malin Rydén</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Death, F/F, Grief, Post-Heartbreak, mild spoilers for retribution</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-01-27</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-01-27</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-13 13:21:36</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Major Character Death</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>460</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/29016909</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Amlovelies/pseuds/Amlovelies</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>An quick drabble about Julia and grief and the after effects of heartbreak</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Julia Ortega/Sidestep</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Chargestep Prompt Pieces [3]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/2133453</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>9</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>And there's nothing, that I can do except bury my love for you</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>written for a prompt request over on tumblr using the song moondust by Jaymes Young as inspiration<br/>title is taken from the song</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>               There was no grave to visit, no place to lay flowers, no headstone to hear her regrets. How could there be when there was no body, only a mass cremation? Would Cynthia be happy with the anonymity she was granted in death, ending up as just another nameless faceless victim?</p><p>               People knew Sidestep was gone, but they were used to masks disappearing. There were always others eager to try their hand at the hero game. There was talk of a park, a memorial, a plaque. If Ortega was still with the Rangers she would know more, but that was Chen’s headache now.</p><p>               Los Diablos may commemorate Sidestep’s name and accomplishments, even if few outside of the Ranger’s knew how essential she had been to stopping the Nanosurge. She would be written into the bloody and chaotic history of the city. Another name in the long list of lives sacrifices for the “greater good.”</p><p>               But Cynthia? Cynthia was gone. It was as if she never existed. There was no family, no friends, no one outside of the Ranger’s who seem to know or care. Ortega didn’t even know where she had been living, just another of Cynthia’s many secrets that she took to her grave. There was no opportunity to claim a memento. What Ortega wouldn’t give for an old hoodie or maybe even the blanket Mama had crocheted as a gift a few years ago. If she knew Cynthia at all (had she?) they would probably reek of cigarettes. She never thought she’d miss the acrid smell of smoke.</p><p>               There aren’t any photos of her face. Ortega had never regretted the times she’s burned out a pap’s equipment before they could get a shot of them together until now.</p><p>               She is left with nothing but her memories and time. Time she always thought she would have more of time. Time to come to terms with the depth of her own feelings. Time to work through Cynthia’s walls. Time to make her believe.</p><p>               Maybe it was better there was no headstone. No unfeeling stone for Ortega to break herself against in a too late confession.</p><p>               Without the usual mourning rituals Ortega learns to bury other things. Instead she buries the guilt and loss under the bravado and charm that everyone expects of Charge, expects of her. If her flirtations never come to fruition, then no one comments. At least Mama has stopped harassing her about settling down.</p><p>               She keeps her hair short. Even years later when her memory of Cynthia’s face is fuzzy and she can’t recall the sound of her laugh she still misses the weight of the braid down her back. Even after her memories have lost their sharpness, she can still feel the empty space at her side.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>thank you for reading :)<br/>find me on tumblr @amlovelies</p></blockquote></div></div>
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